


Off The Record

by EatYourSparkOut



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Leash/Collar, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Schmoop, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatYourSparkOut/pseuds/EatYourSparkOut
Summary: As the situation on Cybertron deteriorates, Senator Shockwave and Orion Pax take refuge in one another.





	Off The Record

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlightCaptivator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Our Old Tricks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657022) by [StarlightCaptivator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator). 



> A very belated b-day gift for StarlightCaptivator >:3c
> 
> Thank you for blessing us with these two on a regular basis <3

“That’s it, sweetspark.” 

Shockwave leaned back as he spoke, lounging in the plush chair of his penthouse office. He relaxed into the cushions, and took a moment to enjoy the truly _divine_ image currently gracing his optics. Orion was a vision under ordinary circumstances, but the sight of him now—firmly settled in the crux of Shockwave’s thighs—was heaven itself. 

He’d pulled the shutters earlier, to ensure that no prying camera drones would shatter their peace, but a ribbon of light still streamed through the cracks to highlight the adoring expression on Orion’s face. 

In this moment, Shockwave was reminded that he was more than a little bit in love. 

Of course, the fact that Orion currently had Shockwave’s spike swallowed to the hilt certainly didn’t help to balance his frame of mind. He shuddered as Orion took it upon himself to _actually_ swallow, intake working determinedly across the sensitive nodes which lined the bottom of his spike. Nodes which were unfairly sensitized, having been enveloped in blissful heat for the better part of a cycle. 

Shockwave conceded to the pleasure, a small moan bubbling forth to rupture the silence, and Orion—his endlessly thoughtful Orion—was quick to echo him. The ensuing reverberation traveled along his array, dragging with it the heat which had been pooling in his midsection. An amalgam of reverence and raw desire tugged incessantly at his spark, demanding an escalation. 

Orion shifted restlessly, and despite his distraction, Shockwave reached out with his field to ensure that his paramour was still comfortable. This was only fun if they were _both_ enjoying it. 

He received nothing but gentle amusement in return, and satisfied, Shockwave rubbed his thumb gently against one of Orion’s audials—where his servo had long-since taken up the task of caressing his helm. Orion chose that moment to swallow again, and Shockwave’s other servo tightened on the leash that it held. A klik later, bliss cascaded across his frame. 

His armor flared, in order to better accommodate the hot air which blasted from his vents. Overload dangled just out of reach, but despite his frame’s insistence, Shockwave was in no rush.

“Has anyone ever told you what a vision you are on your knees?” he asked, after he’d recovered from the onslaught. It was the truth. Orion was always beautiful, but in this moment—devoted wholly to his task—he was particularly striking. There was a laser-sharp focus to him which never failed to take Shockwave’s breath away. 

Orion made a low, almost needy noise—partially muffled by Shockwave’s spike. Once again, pleasure danced up his spinal strut at the sensation, and it took a considerable amount of fortitude to keep his hips from jerking forward. His spike throbbed petulantly at his restraint. 

“Hush, now,” he admonished teasingly. “No talking with your mouth full.” 

The leash was the perfect tool to pull Orion securely flush against his housing with, and Shockwave seized the opportunity to emphasize his statement. 

Orion’s optics flashed with surprise. Rather than choke, however, his intake relaxed to allow Shockwave that much deeper. Precisely as expected. 

Oh, and the _warmth_ of that mouth was almost too much to bear. Shockwave trembled, on the verge of something which felt greater than overload.

Orion was staring accusingly at him, but the look held no heat, and the laughter in his field contradicted the reprimand. In fact, Shockwave noted the decisive spike of _want_ in Orion’s field as he continued to hold him firmly in place, and filed it away for later.

“That’s much better,” he praised, a small smile playing at the edge of his derma, and the last of Orion’s false pique melted away. 

A glossa rubbed firmly along the underside of Shockwave’s spike in half-sparked retribution, and this time Shockwave’s hips did twitch forward, chasing the sensation. His murmured approval was practically unintelligible, but the fond amusement in Orion’s optics showed that he understood nonetheless. And then, despite his limited range of motion, Orion managed to angle his helm so that the head of Shockwave’s spike rubbed against the back of his intake. He gasped an expletive. 

Shockwave had a sneaking suspicion that the axis of control had shifted. He didn’t mind. Position and _accessories_ aside, these encounters weren’t a common occurrence between them, and they weren’t serious so much as they were play—an arrangement which suited him perfectly. That wasn’t to say Shockwave didn’t take Orion’s needs seriously, or consider his comfort a priority—he very much did. But, he was admittedly no firm hand, and Orion often took advantage of his rather _lax_ authority. The loose and playful nature of his field was unlikely to change within their current parameters.

And if Shockwave were being truly honest with himself, he would acknowledge that the desire to be on the _other_ side of such play had been needling him for some time. 

The appeal had always been there, but before Orion he’d disinclined to put himself in so vulnerable a position. Anything which gave the Senate ammunition against him was... inadvisable. Had he given in and indulged with a stranger—vetted or not—the likelihood of some headline or other appearing in order to mock his ‘deviancy’ had always been high. He interfaced far too openly and often for their liking as it was. 

But Orion was safe; his shelter from the voyeuristic masses and insufferable politicians. Perhaps next time they felt like engaging in something outside their usual fare, he would ask. 

For now, he was content to simply enjoy this. 

Orion had devoted himself fully to the task of massaging his spike with his intake, and Shockwave was finding it harder to keep quiet—a litany of approval and praise falling from his lips. He’d informed Orion at the start that he was not to touch himself, and he’d done an admirable job so far of keeping that promise. Better yet, Orion’s equipment had been bared for some time, but he hadn’t made any motion to alleviate the leaking mess, and the steady rocking of his hips—the knowledge that he was deriving such enjoyment from _Shockwave’s_ pleasure—was intoxicating in its own right. 

Orion dimmed his optics, and Shockwave’s vents caught as he was once again struck by the tender countenance of the mech before him. That he had somehow managed to deserve this devotion...

Shockwave tugged on the leash, pulling Orion firmly against his housing, and holding him there. He was so very _close_. Charge crackled across his plating; it ran down the length of his spike, doubtlessly setting off the sensors along the roof of Orion’s mouth. His fingers tightened deliberately around Orion’s audial. It was a pale pantomime of the warm vice surrounding him, but he _knew_ how sensitive those antennae were. 

Orion’s fans stuttered. His frame jerked, and Shockwave watched intently as the wires in his throat tensed. He didn’t both to contain his own groan as Orion’s field flared out, a flurry of desire and wild gratitude. 

He felt the splatter of transfluid against his legs with no small amount of satisfaction.

In the aftermath, Orion’s expression was decidedly dazed. He’d grown sloppy, and a mixture of fluids had welled up where his mouth met Shockwave’s equipment. The shine of it on Orion’s derma and chin was absolutely filthy. Shockwave loved it. 

“Did you overload, darling?” he asked, still thumbing absently at the audial.

He had. Shockwave could feel the mess trailing down his frame, and the tremor which followed his careful stroking. 

Orion hummed a confirmation, his optics dim.

“Very good, darling,” Shockwave said with affection, petting his helm. “Continue, why don’t you?”

Shockwave allowed the leash to grow slack, in case Orion felt the need to regain some of his composure. Freedom granted, Orion pulled back a bit to lav at the underside of his spike.

Shockwave was teetering on the precipice of a glorious overload himself. Faced with Orion’s single-minded determination to please him, he found himself ridiculously weak. Primus, he adored this mech. 

A bit of the sentiment escaped through his field, and Orion’s response was immediate. He hummed, closed his derma around Shockwave’s spike and _sucked_. Coupled with the warm appreciation projected back at him, and the fingers which slid up to lace through his own, Shockwave stood no chance. 

He cried out. Lightning crackled up his spinal strut as he arched and spilled down Orion’s intake. Each pulse of his spike was met by gentle suction, as though Orion meant to draw out his very spark through his array. Orion’s servos on his hips helped steady him through the convulsions which seized his frame, and when he had finally ridden out the release Shockwave collapsed—every micrometer of his frame bathed in tired satisfaction. 

Orion drew away carefully, though Shockwave still twitched at the contact to oversensitive plating. He licked absently at the corner of his mouth, cleaning the transfluid there, and Shockwave’s blatant ogling was met by a knowing smile. He _was_ rather transparent. 

Shockwave’s spark swelled with affection. This had been a wonderful idea, as usual. It’d been a long week, and sorely needed on both sides. When Orion had called him for an impromptu rendezvous—under the guise of official business—he hadn’t even thought twice before accepting. 

Sometimes he marveled at the fact that this bot had managed to wrap him so thoroughly around his finger. But Shockwave had been lost from the moment Orion had burst onto the senate floor in a blaze of righteous fury and condemnation, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Outside, their lives were fueled by conflict—sharp wits and false promises on one end, corruption and crime on the other. These moments were a welcome respite—in which Shockwave could pretend it was just the two of them, with no other obligations, or unrelenting sense of peril hanging over their helms. There was little enough time to steal between Orion’s cases and his projects; their meetings were precious interludes within a mire of responsibilities. He treasured them. 

Deep down, Shockwave knew that their time was short. This couldn’t last forever, not with the looming threat of Proteus and his lackeys. They were racing against the clock as it was, and with that in mind he’d shifted to setting the stage as much as he could for others—to ensure that there would be other mecha to take up the fight and finish his work. 

Ultimately, Shockwave knew that they weren’t to get their happy ending. And the more time they spent together, the more painful their eventual separation would be. 

He simply couldn't bring himself to regret it.

He stroked the line of Orion’s neck with a finger, and his helm tipped back to expose more plating to Shockwave’s exploration. The collar came off and was tossed aside, and soon enough Orion had joined Shockwave in the chair. 

It was a bit of a squeeze, but they managed, and before long Shockwave was settled in Orion’s lap. Orion’s overload hadn’t deterred him much, judging by the rigid spike which settled against Shockwave’s midsection, and drooled transfluid along his plating.

Pushing away the last stirrings of melancholy, Shockwave drew Orion in for a kiss. It was everything. A sweet and slow slide of derma upon derma that left him dizzy. Orion kissed like he never meant to stop, and Shockwave was all too happy to be kept. 

“You’re wonderful,” he managed when they broke apart, like the lovestruck fool that he was. 

“Flatterer,” rumbled Orion, bumping their forehelms together affectionately. There was a roughness to his vocalizer that reminded Shockwave just where that mouth had been moments ago, and it ignited a new desire in him.

Shockwave’s spike had returned to its housing, but his valve was more than willing to accomodate. 

“Me? Never,” he breathed with a laugh, and with Orion’s help aligned them. 

He was so very wet that it took nothing for Orion to slip inside, and Shockwave arched decadently as each set of rings parted for the spike. Orion’s fans caught as Shockwave’s valve fluttered and adjusted to the girth of it, squeezing down involuntarily and making the friction of raised nodes on ridges that much better. 

He rocked forward, and Shockwave gasped. Orion repeated the motion, again and again until they were both grinding against one another with a mounting desperation.

The sound of it was filthy and perfect, and it left Shockwave dripping even more lubricant—which splattered eagerly against Orion’s thighs. The thick, gorgeously ridged spike prodded against his ceiling node, and happily stimulated the swollen mesh it found there. It thoroughly massaged throbbing nodes, and left him gasping eloquently for ‘more’ and ‘harder’.

“Orion…” he moaned helplessly, and received a nuzzle in return. 

Orion began to pepper his throat with kisses, soft and tender. Shockwave allowed his helm to fall back—optics dimming, and mouth falling open wordlessly—and Orion turned to mouthing at the exposed tubing. He latched onto a prominent cable and sucked until the energon rose. 

“Yes, love?” was breathed with amusement, and then punctuated with a thrust that cause a new fire to ignite in his core. 

Shockwave gripped Orion tight; he crossed his ankles behind the sturdy frame and squeezed his thighs together in a vain attempt to get _closer_. He wanted to sink into Orion's frame until they were nigh on indistinguishable from one another, simply two sparks pulsing in time. 

Orion seemed to glean some of this, because he shifted closer and drew Shockwave into another long kiss. Strong arms wrapped around him, and enveloped him in warmth as surely as the field which mingled with his own. 

Shockwave’s spark skipped inside of his chestplate. He focused on the sheer magnitude of Orion’s spike splitting him open and ground down. Orion helped, taking hold of Shockwave’s frame as he rocked deeper still. His valve tightened again, desperate to keep Orion right where he was—nudging right there, against _that_ node—and milk him for all that he was worth. 

Shockwave told him as much, and received a full-frame shudder in return. Lubricant squelched between them—messy, and excessive, and perfect. 

“ _You’re_ wonderful” mumbled Orion against his derma. “I hope you know that.” His servos had moved under the glass of Shockwave’s windshield—horribly sensitive space that it was—to caress the circuitry there, and his expression was spark-breakingly sincere. “There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not grateful to have met you,” he murmured, as if he didn’t know _exactly_ what that would do to him.

Shockwave overloaded then, bright and effervescent. He clung to Orion’s frame as he rode out the release, burying his face in the nearest available surface—which just so happened to be a swathe of warm neck cabling. He took the chance to bite down on a fuel line, and Orion stiffened with a groan. The ensuing throb, and gush of transfluid against his mesh made him groan and jerk anew. 

They collapsed against the chair together, and stayed like that for a while. Shockwave let his processor still for a moment, and simply enjoyed the warmth of Orion’s plating—the content cadence of his field and and soft whirr of his fans. 

“I love you,” murmured Orion against his helm, and Shockwave’s throat cabling tightened with emotion. 

He wished that they could stay like this forever, as sentimental and unrealistic as that was. 

Despite himself, he feared what the coming months might bring. Things were stirring; there was a revolution brewing, and state-sanctioned injustices were becoming more commonplace by the day. The oily black poison which oozed from the mouths of the senate had begun to tarnish even his countermeasures. 

Shockwave knew that he could only do so much, however.

In the meantime, he’d draw strength from that which mattered most.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the summary wasn't too misleading. It was meant to reference the stuff fuelling Shockwave's introspection, but the relationship was the real focus ^^;
> 
> As always, feel free to catch me on tumblr @ any of the links on my profile :D


End file.
